


Entering the Garden

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Engagement, Episode Tag, Episode: s07e13 White Orchids, F/M, Love, Marriage Proposal, Romance, Sexy Times, celebration, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-06 12:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Tag to the proposal scene in 713 'White Orchids.' Patrick and Teresa were still in a deep, long kiss when the camera pulled into a long shot and the scene cut. The rest was left to imaginations. This is what I imagine. Hot sexy times celebration. Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist.First posted at FFnet on February 23, 2015. Now here, with minor edits, hopefully to improve the read.





	Entering the Garden

A lull in the body count made the mild, sunny day a celebration. A deliciously warm day in March, it was too early to count as spring, but the season approached and the land Jane had bought for them was coming to life in hidden places, especially at the water's edge. High in the tree branches, new leaves sprouted so tender and pale they deluded the eye as a shifting green mist, dappling the sparkle of the sun's rays under their canopy.  


Closing the car door, Lisbon walked past the Airstream and had to admit it had a great front yard! White streaks of cloud brushed a sky of a blue so vibrant that it stepped on indigo. Purple sky. The sun poured gold, saturating the air and teasing the emergent grasses with promises of life. Water chuckled endlessly as a creek fed and emptied their lake with its happy crew of splashing ducks. So cheerful. No wonder Jane loved them. Tucked inside the paper sack with their sandwiches was a blueberry muffin. Something to feed the ducks would put an extra shine in Jane's eye!  


Jane was in vest and rolled up shirtsleeves, using a straight edge to detail his plan when she came through the open door. Golden curls spilled from his bent head and her breath hitched as she followed the line of his form. Caught! She shifted his attention, holding up the bag. She was sure Jane didn't miss the blush in her cheeks or her eyes darkened with daydreams as they kissed hello.  


Kisses uniquely theirs, they made her tingle, no matter how small. They were a part of her life now, and something she'd never had before. Places throughout her body, surfaces and depths, urged her to kiss Patrick all the time, touch him, hold him close. He responded to her so readily, she could be in a tumult of desire without really knowing how it had happened. Peeling away to breathe, she found him as always after a kiss, smiling softly. If they were lucky, they would be someplace that accommodated lovemaking, their fire making them infinitely adjustable.  


It was only a kiss of greeting. How did her mind fill with a vision of making love, bent over his makeshift table with a foot propped on an up-turned bucket to open herself wider to him? Shifting her wanton thoughts without looking at Jane, she appraised the large room.  


The ramshackle cabin didn't look so ramshackle anymore. It was a clean workspace, free of construction clutter for now, swept out and comfortable to enter. Jane worked in it every spare minute. Lisbon smiled to think he was nesting. She had all but deserted her own house for a sensual love shack existence in Jane's Airstream, but the only thing she missed was her big soft bed. At the rate Patrick was working, they'd put a new one in the cabin in no time. She almost hoped it would be an iron bedstead that would creak and squeak when they bounced on it making love. But, no. Who wanted a metronome for that?  


And . . . she was back in the bedroom again.  


"I brought sandwiches."  


"Those are magic words. Come with me." Two throws hung on the porch rail and he grabbed them as they walked out.  


"What? Two blankets?"  


"One for the ground, obviously. And one for the log. Upholstery! It'll be our couch." His smile told how much fun he was having.  


Patrick Jane, with a broad, sunny smile drawing those beautiful lines in his face, was a wonder! He dazzled her and she couldn't help but return his grin. "Leave it to you to find a way to have a couch in the woods!"  


Tugging lightly on her coat, he stopped her long enough to give her a sweet kiss. "Thank you. I knew you'd like it. We are dressed for work, after all. Don't want to make a mess of ourselves."  


Lisbon smiled at the twinkle in his eye, tilted her head and gave that sharp little nod of happy agreement.  


The colorful throw over the log, with its hints of sky and water, cloud and bloom, somehow gave the copse an air of spring in flower. Of iris and grape hyacinth and bluebonnets, wisteria hanging from tree limbs. Patrick and Teresa looked across the lake and imagined old-world fragrant roses, cream and pink, bordering the crawlspace under the house and winding up the posts. A grouping of redbud trees on one side, obscuring a roomy hot tub. Bluebonnets on the lawn along the lake. Trellises of honeysuckle, a span of fat white clover and weedy yellow clover smelling of vanilla, near two beehives. Patrick had identified dogwood trees everywhere, not yet in leaf. He filled Teresa's mind with clouds of white flowers spanning the understory of old oaks where they sat. Birds twittered and called all around them. Ducks splashed and quacked, and the sound of running water seemed near. Pale green spring shifted around and above them, altering the light into something that fed the spirit.  


Teresa noticed Patrick's hand. Before she could be fully startled, she blurted out, "You're not wearing your ring."  


"I'm not married."  


It was a matter-of-fact reply, an understatement that was almost funny. That was lost on Teresa as she looked at Patrick in wonder. She couldn't help but tear up – for him to have come to this point, and with no fanfare at all. But in her mind and body, all was soaring light and she could hardly catch her breath. She wanted to ask for the story.  


Before she could ask, Patrick diverted her attention to their discussion of the house while fishing the ring from his vest pocket, holding it between them to talk about its meaning to him. A meaning in which she played a deep, rich part. He offered it to share with him, suggesting that she need not wear it. It would represent their future together.  


Share his ring? How could she? When she looked into his eyes, there was something more, though he said nothing. Wait. Was he asking . . .?  


"I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"  


Stunned, filling with joy until her heart overflowed and her eyes filled with tears, Teresa said yes as soon as she could breathe again. They shared a kiss that seemed never-ending, and soon she was leaning against the upholstered log as Patrick hovered over her.  


Their lips tasted and told of a deep, easy love. One to cycle with the seasons and the years to come. He pressed her, mashing and squirming against her breasts as his excitement grew. Hands bracing his ribs, she held him from making too much pressure on the sensitive flesh. She could feel his heat, building and making his kisses grow more passionate. His tongue sought her mouth and she drew him in as her core came alive.  


"Patrick!" Her voice was all breath, something high and pleading. "I want to make love. Let's go-."  


But he unzipped her pants and slipped his hand under her panties, touching her, finding the wet and sliding his fingers all around, settling his middle finger on her clitoris. She gasped as he began to manipulate it, moaning and whispering into his ear how he made her feel, tugging the curls near his ear. When she came, they were kissing again and she bit his lip.  


Far from making him draw back in pain, his breath quickened as he lifted her enough to slide his hand over her bare ass, petting and pulling her close as he pushed her clothes from her hips. "I want to be naked in the woods with you. Our woods. I want to make love with you now, here."  


His smile lured her in, studying her face, catching her eyes before he kissed her again. Languid, she didn't want to move and he lifted her back, supporting it as he drew her close again and she murmured his name in the golden leaf-scattered light.  


"I want to make love here, too, in this beautiful spot on this beautiful piece of land that you bought for us." Her gentle hand cupped his trousers over his balls and traveled the length of his desperate erection, renewing her desire for him. "I'm not much of a nature girl . . ."  


He nibbled her ear and whispered, "You're getting there. And I'm prepared. We have two blankets. One for underneath and one to cover you." She would realize the negligible need here for modesty, over time. He couldn't wait to be the satyr to her nymph! Pulling her to lie on him, he savored the weight of her body as he rolled his hips hard along her pelvis and belly. The mere sensation made him want to come. "Teresa!"  


She sat up, imagining their bodies coupling in the wavering pale green light under the trees. He would be a god! She wanted to see him fully naked and aroused, desperate to take her. "You're right." She started unfastening her clothes. "If we scrabble around trying to make love without getting undressed, we'll frustrate ourselves and ruin our clothes." Stopping to caress his face with both hands, she breathed, "Right now, I want your love, moving inside me, your mouth on my breasts. I have to have you! Then, I want to go in and tell the team the news."  


"Blow by salacious blow?" he teased.  


Giggling, she tousled his hair. "Stop. You know what I mean. That we're going to be married. I want to tell everybody!"  


Patrick was so full of love and adoration for her in that moment that tears slid down his cheeks. "I'm happy, too. I'm happy that you're proud of us!"  


"Of course I am, Patrick. You're the love of my life, the best thing that ever happened to me." She took a warm kiss before she stood up to remove her pants.  


"Wait! Let me." He kneeled and slowly revealed her naked lower body. Removing her boots, he pulled the socks from her little feet and helped her shed her lower clothing. Oh, how he wanted to spend time on her pink little feet, watch her fall apart as he discovered her sexual triggers there! Another time.  


Before she could shift out of her coat, his mouth was on her vulva, kissing, sucking, pulling at her flesh, tonguing the aroused nub. Her thighs trembled against his cheeks and, flipping her coattails over the log, he gently guided her to sit on the blanket without taking his mouth away. Slowly, he parted the quivering flesh of her inner thighs. "Hold onto my arms and open your legs wide. I want to taste all of you."  


Bracing her thighs with his hands to steady her, he felt her small hands try to grip his arms. The purchase was too difficult, so he gripped her bottom instead, her coat brushing his face when she leaned to bow her back and take hold of his hair. "Will you be cold if we take your jacket off?"  


"Not at all." She adored his gentle ways of lovemaking, so often understated. Relentless and adventurous, until her body trembled and she felt she would burst if she felt the tip of his warm, moist tongue . . . just . . . once . . . more. And he would do it again, sighing sounds of wonder as she gasped and cried out and broke apart while he licked, soothing her until she came down. "I'm . . . I'm on fire as it is."  


He took off her shirt and unhooked her bra, stilling her with his long fingers when she tried to shake it from her shoulders. "No. I want to expose you in this light." Carefully, he set the black bit of lace over the log with the rest of her clothing and pulled the blanket free, securing it around her shoulders. "You're so beautiful, Teresa, your breasts round and full and tipped with rosebuds." He kissed them, pushing his face into the soft flesh, nuzzling and sucking. When he took them into his hands, kneading and squeezing them tenderly to his mouth to kiss the curves he made by handling them, she arched and moaned. He lifted her to their ground cover, wrapped in her blanket like a babe, carefully laying her down.  


"Stand up and undress. I want to see you." He did as she asked, feeling the satyr inside, standing naked and proud before her, squeezing himself red and mottled, handling his balls to display them to her.  


Teresa was panting, looking into his eyes when she opened her legs to him. Her hands reached, wiggling fingers restless to touch him, pull him inside her. Falling to his knees between her legs, he entered her, his movement a puncture, stabbing her to the hilt. She roared and set her teeth against the meat of his shoulder, but he shrugged her face away and took her lips for a deep, probing kiss. She was hungry for him.  


Lithe and forceful, he danced inside her, not stopping for her next orgasm. He breathed like a speeding train, so close to his release and dragging her with him again, when she groaned and managed to speak. "On top . . . let me on top."  


Pushing into her, he held and tried to regain some control, grunting almost in pain. Finally he rolled to his back, carrying her with him, pulling her cover along, but she shrugged it away. He held her hips, forcing them to an angle they both loved and slid her along his length.  


So close to the edge, she removed his hands and held them to her face, kissing them before placing them on her breasts. "Your thumbs . . ."  


Bending his knees, he opened his legs to give her freedom to move and the depth she craved. She cried out when she sank onto him, supported herself against his thighs and began to move.  


His nymph! He'd never felt anything like what her circling, diving hips did to him. He forgot all about thumbing her nipples until she asked quietly again. They stiffened tightly when he touched them. When he pinched them, she cried out and sealed her hot flesh to his rigid cock. Her muscles clamped tight and he moved in her, frantic as he reached the point of no return and knew she had, too. His orgasm washed through him, pulling her along like gravity until she started to pulse inside, then laid her head on his chest and rocked against him, her muted cries lifting into the air, joining the birdsong.  


After awhile, they both sat up, feeling light as plumped goosedown pillows, lips swollen in happy smiles.  


"I hate to dress to go to the Airstream and clean up . . . "  


Patrick's eyes sparkled as he winked at her, suggestive. "We can walk naked. It's our place and we're the only ones here."  


"I'm not there yet, nature boy."  


He studied her for a few seconds, naked, sopping wet between her open legs. Picking up his water bottle, he told her to lean back. "Here. I'll rinse you off. You can dry with a blanket."  


"The ultimate boy scout . . ." She grinned, but saw the sense of it and cooperated with him.  


"I love seeing you full of my semen." He washed the white stream away, wiggling his fingers on her to make the water do its job.  


"Paa-trick." A surprised giggle betrayed her delight.  


"I don't know why . . . "  


"I do." Since her nephew, baby Paul's, christening Teresa knew Patrick wanted more children. When she saw him playing with the baby and the other children, it dawned on her that he'd felt this way since she had known him. He always lit up around babies and children. Nothing could take the smile from his face. She would give him as many as he wanted and that her body could manage. But she deflected his inquiring gaze by teasing, "Caveman!"  


He smirked and handed the blanket to her, washed himself and dried with the blanket when she was finished.  


They dressed, left the muffin on the worktable for later, closed up the cabin and headed for the office with their joyous announcement.  


Little understandings of Patrick as a man, and soon her husband, flooded her in the following days, sometimes filling her with so much love that it was impossible to contain it inside her body. Whenever she could, she brought him this feeling so that he could release it through their physical union, sharing it, kindling the same in him.  


Since clearing the matter of the ring, so much had fallen into place. She put Patrick's ring on the chain with her mother's cross, warming it with her own body where he could see it every day, look at all the love he'd ever had when he looked at her. She saw the same when she looked in the mirror, so much love that she could feel it when she touched the tokens with her fingers. And it reminded her of the profound constancy of the man. Their communication channels were wide open, a pleasurable flood of love, touching, kisses and straight talk. There was nothing that stood between them now, no barrier or scary places, no quicksand of uncertainty, doubt, lack of trust. Secrets were for pleasure and happy surprises.  


It was a pregnant bride who met Patrick for marriage, her secret his wedding present.


End file.
